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Novels by elegiacomo (/giacomo lee):
Short stories (read all here):
Apocalypse! (White Day, not today) (Poxymash #1), September 2010
Last Angel ^_^ (The Beat), November 2010
Anna Collide (The Morpediera) (Quail Bell), November 2010
Viper (The Rage of a New Ancestor: 2010 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology, New Asian Writing), December 2010
My Angel Rocks Back and Forth (Ex-Voto) (This Zine Will Change Your Life), February 2011
Little Feet (‘80) (Lit Up), February 2011
Nobody nobody (Weeraesque) (NAW), April 2011
Now Take That (Apocalypse Apocalypse, Totalitario) (Ranfurly Review), June 2011
All Around the Apiary (Nikotan) (Swallow It Whole), March 2012
Friend Request? (Seedpod), January 2013
The Aisle (Seedpod), May 2013
Shark Bit (Red Trick soundtrack EP), December 2011
Like Spirits on the Seventh Moon (Nineteen Chambers) (elegiacomo) (a Red Trick exclusive), April 2012
An extract from Xanthe Terra, as published in this month’s Aspidistra X
- Giacomo Lee
August 22nd, 1924
The old man was surrounded by young men with machines. While the latter were checking dials and measuring radio waves, the old man made notes on the machines, and on what the young men did with their hands. His own meanwhile etched sketches, annotated with names and numbers, ideas. He was a respectful guest, careful to keep his stooped figure out of the men’s way, like a pivot in the middle of the observatory, an ancient space body moving in ever decreasing circles. Ironically, he was being respectful to men who were awed by the mere presence of him. It was the Camille Flammarion after all, and when one by one all these young men left, their ancestor in astronomy was left on his own with all their machines in matrix.
An elegiacomo exclusive, xoxo is a short sequel of sorts to my novel Red Trick, a book I wrote in 2007 that finally found publication February 2012. Consider it a catch-up session with the book’s main character MC Red Trick (aka Freddy) at the age of 26.
xoxo (seven years later)
Buster Keaton is blacked up in paint, on the run from the long truncheon of the law. He ducks round a corner, losing the fat flatfoot who then bumps into a black handyman walking down the street. Freddy can already feel the two guys from work shift uncomfortably on the bunk bed apparatus they’re sharing, so decides to laugh so everyone can feel fine, where really he would have smiled and shaken his head. He looks up at the busy glass floor above, and almost gets an upskirt view right above where he’s sitting.
The dream would follow the same pattern all summer. I’d be seated on the train to work, riding the westbound route of the Northern Line. It was my normal morning trip, though the carriage seemed a little emptier than normal, and the scarf wrapped up over my chin meant it must have been winter above ground. In my stare: my foot, shaking, with both of my legs crossed as inconsiderately as usual. On my right: a man holding the Metro, but I could only see the front page, a blind spot for the brain, with its photograph and headline as indistinct as the reader’s face.
Registration for conscription in South Korea is automatic for men in the year they turn 18. Military service lasts two years.
One young man held down another. David Kang-Ho couldn’t imagine what was running through the patient’s head, a fellow soldier, his curse words streaked by tears of bile from somewhere above the voice box, a rattle tinged with the aftertaste of blinding alcohol, a sermon told in tongues, ripping up one side of the jaw to show tendrils and teeth never seen. A little peek in his head would have shown a similar sound but dragged out, that of chirping cicadas nesting up a mountain in the summer, and nothing else, and no-one else, just views and plant life a little rustled by wind, and rocks in the water, ‘til a purple night-time fell and tigers with glowing eyes of orange prowled the plains looking for home.
I: Litzy Moo
‘American police found family photographs in the gunman’s wallet and previous residence with all of his relatives’ eyes and teeth pricked out one by one with the use of a small pin.’
I want to sit in my room and think of the girl’s photo on the TV, smiling at me but I pushed the button off cos mama asked us.
In my first nightmare I can see the murderer man just sitting in a car and playing with his photo, and he’s got the pin and just sticking it in all the eyes in this old photo he got in a wallet, but he doesn’t hurt his baby eyes in the photo. And I tell the died girl to keep hiding cos I can see him coming with his gun. Me and her are hiding under a lady’s skirt in the queue and I can see the devil’s shoes coming to everyone very fast and hard and invisible. The skirt is yellow and hot like sunshine. I am being Luna and I wake up.